Something familiar
by Misila
Summary: Or: when Chuuya met Kyouka.


_**Something familiar**_

.

The short text on the screen lights up his eyes as he blows a ring of smoke out of his mouth, the cigarette returning to its place between his lips again. Swift steps guide him through the night, the coat wrapped around his shoulders dancing to the wind's soundless melody.

Chuuya puts his phone back in the pocket of his trousers; his legs swing forward by themselves in automatic movements, for they guide him to a familiar place. He finishes the cigarette at the last turn and drops it on the pavement without sparing a glance, can't help the way the corners of his lips tilt upwards at the sight of the house at the end of the street as his pace quickens the tiniest bit, eagerness to get home imperceptible unless one knows where to look.

Light comes out from only two windows; although the building is big, with its two floors that take up as many space as three of the houses close to it, most of its rooms have been empty ever since Chuuya came for the first time. He guesses Kouyou is at the kitchen finishing dinner, hesitates for a second as he reaches the entry; but finally he chooses politeness over not interrupting her and knocks on the wooden door, as opposed to sneaking into the building through a window.

"Welcome home," Kouyou greets him upon opening the door, her hair falling free over her shoulders, framing a sincere smile Chuuya can't help but mirror.

"Thank you for inviting me," he replies, taking his hat off as he follows his mentor inside. He means it, even though his back aches after the long flight; as much as he wants to rest and isn't particularly hungry, his return wouldn't feel as such if he just crashed on his flat to sleep until he got used to the Japan time zone again.

"You know the pleasure is mine." Kouyou turns her head to look at Chuuya in the light of the hall. "Everything went as planned, I hope."

Chuuya nods as he takes his shoes off, carefully letting his coat and hat on the hang stand. "It wasn't a big deal." He pauses, though, sniffing at the air. "Curry?"

"Very well," Kouyou smiles, resuming walking. "I know you are tired," she adds as they pass the stairs, "but if you were kind enough to set the table while I finish…"

"Alright," Chuuya cuts her off. "Is there…"

But the rest of the question dies before reaching his lips, head turning towards the stairs on reflex. He frowns as he scans the dim landing, focuses on the sudden silence interrupted by Kouyou's soft steps, half expecting something other than her feet to break it.

"Yes, Chuuya?"

Kouyou hasn't stopped, hasn't turned around; she is already walking into the kitchen, oblivious to her protégé's uneasiness.

Chuuya tears his gaze off the stairs, eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

"Is there anything other than the curry?" he finishes, hurrying to catch up with her.

"I'm afraid not, but if you are still hungry after it there are sweets and fruit." Chuuya opens a drawer to take two spoons. "Oh, three."

"Three?" Chuuya pauses, the frown returning to his face. "Who else is in the house?"

He can't see Kouyou's face, but a resigned smile is clear in her words.

"Seems like I have another child to raise… I wanted to refuse, but the other option was Akutagawa."

Chuuya raises his eyebrows, mouth open in surprise. He leaves for two weeks and his mentor gets herself another kid to take care of. If he were less tired he would probably tease her a bit for it.

But he is exhausted and despite his sleepiness the smell of curry has whetted his appetite, so Chuuya takes cutlery, glasses and bowls to the dining room table in a precarious tower on his hand, easily landing every item in its place. He peeks back into the kitchen in case Kouyou needs something else.

"Go call the kid," she orders absentmindedly, sensing Chuuya's presence before he can even ask. "In the room next to yours," she clarifies.

It's both endearing and a bit exasperating, Chuuya muses as he climbs the stairs, how that bedroom is still his even though he moved out long ago, even though he will probably become an Executive in a few months. Just like he still thinks of Kouyou's house as home, despite how little time he spends there lately.

He stops before the door next to his own, knocks three times and waits.

Teeth catch his lower lip when ten seconds pass and the person inside doesn't open or move at all– with the silence comes uneasiness as Chuuya considers stepping inside anyway even if it means making an awful first impression. He knocks again, though.

Nothing.

His fist halts before he can try to make his presence known for the third time, a sharp inhale filtering through the door.

 _At least there is somebody there_. Chuuya lowers his arm, fist unclenching.

"May I come in?"

There is no spoken answer, but Chuuya hears soft thuds as the child inside approaches the door, takes a step back when it slides open, the light from streetlamps illuminating the room spilling on the hallway.

Feet are dragged on the floor again as a figure that hardly reaches Chuuya's shoulders turns around to go back to the bed and sits on the mattress.

The girl looks barely older than twelve, but her movements make her look even smaller; shoulders slouched down, the curve of her back trembles almost imperceptibly beneath a red kimono, thin fingers intertwined around something on her lap.

Instead of switching the light on, however, Chuuya ventures inside the room, intrigued by the girl's behaviour. Her gaze keeps focused on her lap, though, eyes hidden behind a black fringe; her hair, tied up in two pigtails, doesn't reach lower than her shoulders.

Apparently she has forgotten she isn't alone in the room.

Chuuya clears his throat.

"So," he starts. He isn't particularly bad at dealing with children, but this girl is unusually strange; he wonders if that's the reason she caught Kouyou's attention, "what's your name?"

The girl doesn't move.

"Mine's Chuuya," he continues, trying to conceal the anxiousness creeping up the back of his neck; but she keeps still and Chuuya feels his already little patience start to vanish. "When did you come here?"

Pale hands clutch what Chuuya now can see is a phone tighter, so tight her knuckles shine white in the dim light; but not a word comes from her lips.

"Anyway, dinner's ready," he announces, giving up before his growing annoyance gets the better of him. If the brat doesn't want to talk, so be it. "You better don't make big sis wait," he adds; it's not an afterthought as much as it is a piece of advice.

Chuuya doesn't stop to see if the girl moves as he walks out; he can hear her stillness. _Maybe she's mute_ , he ponders, making a note to ask Kouyou later.

But then a small voice resounds in the room, quiet enough to halt Chuuya's steps.

"Kyouka."

Chuuya turns his head around, eyes wide in surprise as he switches the light on.

 _So she can speak._

The girl hasn't moved an inch; but as she takes a deep breath, a shudder runs down her spine.

"My name is Kyouka and I'm eleven. My parents died last week and Kouyou brought me here the day before yesterday," she continues, raising her voice even though it wavers. "The Port Mafia is interested in my ability, so… so I have to become a valuable member…" Chuuya takes an uncertain step back towards her, something in her words curling around his chest– and for a second he wants to run away, far from this child, because mourning a parent's death is something he can't really empathise with. "I don't know if I can, but I have nothing else–" Her voice breaks.

Something sour gets stuck in Chuuya's throat; but he doesn't walk away. He forces himself to breathe in deeply even if the air in the room tastes like sand, to get back in front of Kyouka again and crouch down– although he can't see her eyes yet, her lips tremble so much he starts thinking about ways to make her stop crying even before she starts to.

"Hey," he starts, resisting the urge to reach for her; he leans his gloved hands on his knees, "you'll––"

"My name is Kyouka and my parents are dead," she says again, quietly.

Orphans are no strangers for Chuuya. But the girl's words sound disturbingly monotonous, nearly bored, and Chuuya faintly wonders how many times Kyouka has repeated them to herself in an attempt to cope with her loss.

"I'm sorry," he replies, barely louder than her. "But you should know you're lucky big sis took you under her wing." For a second some other possibilities –Mori, Ace, Akutagawa– come to Chuuya's mind; he has to supress a grimace. Looking back, he was really lucky at the time, too.

Kyouka doesn't reply, but she does raise her gaze, for the first time looking at Chuuya in the eye.

And oh, how he wishes she hadn't. Because that wide blue that turns grey and at the edges, bright with unshed tears and a glint of stubbornness that works as pride, is but a reflection of the lost, lonely boy Chuuya was a long time ago.

It makes _him_ want to cry for the both of them.

"In any case," he adds, tearing his gaze off Kyouka, "let's go downstairs."

This time, when he stands up, Kyouka follows. Chuuya lets her walk out of the room first, switches the light off and closes the door. Her silent presence as they make their way to the dining room is not exactly unpleasant; Chuuya is almost disappointed when, after climbing down the stairs, Kyouka wordlessly points towards the hall at the end of which he knows the bathroom is.

Kouyou is already sitting at the table, frowning at her phone. She raises a single eyebrow at Chuuya the moment he walks into the dining room.

"You took your time," she points out, tucking the device between the folds of her pink kimono. "Did you get lost, or did you lose the child on your way back?"

Chuuya huffs out a chuckle.

"Kyouka is in the bathroom," he explains, sitting down opposite from Kouyou. He doesn't miss the first time her lips part before she changes her initial question:

"So you got her to talk? That's quite an achievement."

Chuuya doesn't know whether he should feel proud or annoyed because this is probably one of the reasons Kouyou invited him.

"What happened to her parents?" he asks, though.

"They were killed," Kouyou mutters, grabbing her glass to sip at it.

Somehow Chuuya isn't surprised. "By whom?"

The glass stops before brushing his mentor's lips, her gaze lowering to the liquid inside.

"By Kyouka's own ability."

Chuuya looks down, almost regrets his own curiosity.

Now _that's_ something he can empathise with. He refrains himself from asking about Kyouka's ability; he finds it doesn't really matter.

It doesn't take long for Kyouka to walk into the dining room; she sits between Chuuya and Kouyou, once again still as a statue. After a questioning look to his mentor, who doesn't hesitate before digging into her food, Chuuya starts eating himself, glancing at Kyouka every now and then and biting back a _you should eat_ every time he feels Kouyou's warning glare on him.

Kyouka eventually surrenders to peer pressure, or maybe to hunger; at first it's just one shy spoonful after another, but by the third time Chuuya checks on her she has emptied her bowl and Kouyou is serving more curry in it.

"You're going to get flies in your mouth, Chuuya," Kouyou reprimands.

Bewildered, Chuuya barely manages to close his lips around his spoon. He can't supress a smile when Kyouka glances at him before starting to devour her second serving.

He definitely likes this girl.

* * *

Chuuya & Kyouka are pure and good.

Does anyone agree?


End file.
